


It starts with an inkpot

by vivi1138



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming In Pants, Don't add to Goodreads, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, HP Taste of Smut Fest 2020, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivi1138/pseuds/vivi1138
Summary: When you have a crush on your best friend, sometimes all you need is a little push in the right direction. Being locked in your dorm, unable to see or be seen, might just be the perfect opportunity to confess.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125
Collections: Taste of Smut Fest





	It starts with an inkpot

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt#5 by serpent-under-the-flower: Someone has played a prank and tossed Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the Slytherin boys dorms before sealing it shut. Albus and Scorpius are the only ones inside and they find that their other senses are heightened when they can’t see.  
> ——  
> Thank you for this sweet prompt. Senses used: taste, smell, touch, hearing.  
> Many thanks to my beta, [alwaysparis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysparis)

Scorpius had been trying to finish his Charms homework when the door slammed shut, and the lights went out. There was a dull thud followed by a squeak on his left, then Albus groaning in dismay. “I dropped my inkpot!”

Wincing, Scorpius could only sympathise. His dad had told him—hammered into his skull was more accurate—that doing his homework on his bed would only lead to disaster. He’d gone through nearly seven years of schooling without any incident, but Albus’ luck ran out.

“Cast _Tergeo_ before it dries,” Scorpius said.

So Albus did, more than once. Scorpius could hear him moving the sheets around and mumbling under his breath and decided to help him. It was odd that his eyes weren’t getting used to the dark, though. He frowned, trying to find his inkpot so it wouldn’t spill and mentally congratulating himself: he’d remembered to screw the lid back on earlier. His fingers eventually wrapped around the cold glass of the small bottle, and he slid off his bed, toeing his surroundings to avoid crushing anything under his feet. With the inkpot now safe on the nightstand, Scorpius looked around. Nothing penetrated the thick veil of blackness, not even the usual greenish light from the lake. Aside from Albus’ almost inaudible mutterings, it was also eerily quiet. Or perhaps not; if Scorpius paid attention, he could hear other sounds, like the slow rhythm of his breath, or the water lapping at the window. He didn’t fear the dark—Scorpius the Unanxious would never. Sometimes he even lay in bed, his curtains shut, listening to his best friend tossing and turning in his bed and finding the noise oddly peaceful. But even with sealed curtains, the night was never as dark as _this_. Scorpius had a suspicion. He needed to know.

“Al, any idea what happened?”

The loud, unforgiving sound of parchment tearing resulted in a deep sigh, then complete silence as Albus seemed to have given up.

“Al?” Scorpius repeated, then he added: “You can copy my homework, it’s okay. _Lumos_. Well, that didn’t work.”

“I was almost done.” Another sigh. “It’s Peruvian Darkness Powder, magic won’t help. My uncle sells it.”

“Oh. How long does it last?” He wasn’t even surprised that someone had decided to throw something like that into their dormitory, though it had been a while since anyone had pranked them. “If you’re shrugging, I can’t see you,” he pointed out.

Albus huffed. “Sorry, I don’t know. Let’s just go to the common room.” There was a bump and a rattle—the drawers of the nightstand, probably. “Ow, that hurts!”

Lips curving into a tiny smile, Scorpius felt the air move nearby and heard the telltale shuffle of socked feet on the floor as Albus moved closer. He kept his hand on the bedpost so he wouldn’t lose track of his position in the room.

“Where are you?” Albus was close enough to touch him now; “Ah, got you!” A palm found his face, fingers briefly tangling in his hair. This was terrible. Scorpius knew he was blushing, just because Albus was standing so close that he could smell the fresh scent of his shampoo—and, all right, because Scorpius had a giant crush on him. He’d been aware of his feelings since Fifth Year, and he’d been torturing himself ever since, unwilling to destroy their friendship. But recently, he’d wondered if he shouldn’t take a leap of faith. He’d repeated it like a mantra; Albus wouldn’t mock him. He wouldn’t sneer, either, because that wasn’t something Albus did. Maybe things would get weird, but they had to go back to normal in the end, right? Scorpius had made many decisions to prove that he wasn’t afraid. That one just seemed to be the ultimate monster to defeat. While his brain whirred and displayed a variety of scenarios, Albus left his side and after a series of scratches and raps, declared that the door was locked.

“Scorp, I’m coming back, close your eyes if you don’t want to be poked.”

“Okay!” Scorpius imagined Albus walking with his arms extended in front of him and it was, well, cute. So, he held out his arm and waved it slowly, seeking contact with his friend’s hands. The first touch sent a thrill down his spine, as if the darkness heightened his perception of everything, but especially of the heat of Albus’ hand. He laced his fingers with his friend’s, and only let go once Albus was once again in his immediate vicinity.

He was in so much trouble.

“So.” Albus had one hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. “What do we do now?”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we? We’ll just wait.”

“Then sit with me.” There was movement again as Albus lowered himself to the ground before tugging at Scorpius’ trousers.

Scorpius took a few seconds to breathe deeply, a bit bothered by the fact that blinking didn’t improve his vision. It was very disorienting. He kept his back in contact with the bed frame even after joining his best friend on the floor.

Their thighs touched as Albus shuffled closer. “When this ends, I’m sending a letter to Uncle George. Imagine if one of us was scared of the dark.”

Scorpius nodded, then snorted.

“What?”

“I just nodded, but you can’t see me.”

Albus laughed, the sound somehow clearer and warmer in the dark. When he rested his head on Scorpius’ shoulder, Scorpius found himself paying more attention to everything, as if he was learning about his friend’s deepest secrets. He basked in the moment. The scents he knew so well—the shampoo, soap and aftershave—were weaker now that he identified another one. He’d caught whiffs of it when Albus hugged him in the past, and it was what Amortentia smelled like to him; it was _Albus_. He couldn’t describe it any differently. With slow, deep breaths, he let it fill his nose. His friend’s hand twitched. Scorpius hooked his pinky finger with Albus’, grinning at the different textures between the back of his hand and the inside of his finger. He leaned against him a bit more and got a mouthful of hair, so he readjusted his position. Perhaps it was the darkness, or the fact that Albus wouldn’t see his face that pushed him to act. Scorpius stared ahead, feeling the strain in his eyes as they tried and failed to adapt, and spoke in a hushed whisper:

“I like this—I like you.”

Albus didn’t tense up or react in any way. Mouth dry and heart thrumming, Scorpius continued: “I like you _that_ way.”

This time, Albus turned his head ever-so-slightly. The tip of their noses touched, and Scorpius shivered at the feeling of his friend’s breathing on his lips. He wished he could drown in his beautiful eyes, count the freckles on his cheeks. Yet at the same time, he was relieved that Albus couldn’t see him blushing. His face was on fire.

“You do?” Albus’ voice was only a murmur, but it sounded incredible to Scorpius’ ears because he could _hear_ his smile.

“I’d like to kiss you.” There was a tightness at the back of Scorpius’ throat. “Is that okay?”

“What happens if I say yes?”

With trepidation, Scorpius inched closer, lips barely brushing against Albus’. “I’ll just—kiss you, and I’ll keep doing it if you want me to.”

Albus shifted, moving his hand to grasp Scorpius’ wrist, and in an unexpected move, pressed his mouth against his. Scorpius gasped. He couldn’t believe that Albus was kissing him! His lips were touching him! He almost buzzed in excitement. Then the kiss ended, and he realised he hadn’t reacted at all. He gently slid his other hand behind Albus’ neck, stroking the tiny hair beneath the curls and spikes. “Do it again?” Scorpius needed to be sure that he hadn’t just dreamt it all.

It was like his very soul was singing when Albus obliged. His lips were so soft! Scorpius sighed and gave a tentative lick, noting that Albus must’ve eaten sour gummies earlier and finding the taste reassuring. He’d never kissed anyone before, so he hoped he wasn’t doing it wrong. He tilted his head to get a better angle when Albus opened his mouth and had to stop kissing him because his nose was in the way. Albus huffed a laugh, then grabbed Scorpius’ shirt and pulled him closer.

That neverending wait had been so worth it. Scorpius almost lost his balance when he tried to turn around because his foot was stuck under his thigh and Albus’ leg was too close, and he couldn’t see anything, but all he did was giggle and kiss him harder. Scorpius had no idea what he was doing; it was wonderful.

At first, Albus was grinning, so the kiss was a bit too full of teeth, but then Scorpius slipped the tip of his tongue into his mouth, teasing, and Albus let out a quiet moan and mirrored his actions. Merlin, that felt good.

Albus still tasted of sour candy, but it was fainter now, replaced by something else, something Scorpius identified as Albus, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He even whined a little when they parted, gasping for breath. Oh, how he wished he could see his best friend’s face right now. He felt a hand on his cheek and leaned into the touch.

“That was a nice kiss,” Albus whispered.

Scorpius tapped his foot to avoid squealing in delight. “Can we do that again? Every day? All the time?”

Instead of a reply, Albus climbed onto his lap and kissed him, sweet and soft, while Scorpius tried to control himself. What if he scared him away? He let Albus take the lead, but tested the waters, hands running up and down his back and resting on the waistband of his trousers. Albus broke the kiss, exhaled, and nipped at Scorpius’ jaw, then sucked on his neck—and Scorpius was in heaven. His eyes widened as he found out how sensitive he was just below his earlobe.

Albus paused and gave him a peck on the lips. “Move your hands lower?”

Scorpius did, and he gave his arse a little squeeze. Albus closed the gap between them. Scorpius, now certain that he’d made the right decision, deepened the kiss and pushed himself up to increase the friction. Albus groaned and jerked his hips, and Scorpius hit the back of his head against the bed but couldn’t spare a thought for it, because he could feel the heat pooling in his groin, and Albus’ hands were _everywhere_ —

Scorpius had to stop kissing him to bury his face in the crook of Albus’ neck as he came, while Albus shuddered in his arms, then stilled.

Their ragged breathing was the only sound Scorpius could focus on. Something was blooming in his chest, and it was beautiful. He kissed the soft skin of Albus’ collarbone, smiling as deft fingers ran through his hair.

“Scorp?”

Still dazed, he raised his head. “Mh?”

“Are we boyfriends now?”

“Best friends, boyfriends, partners-in-crime, anything you want.”

Albus hugged him. “Good,” he said, and Scorpius clung to his back. “I’m glad.”

When the light came back, they were still locked in an embrace, and Scorpius didn’t open his eyes, content to stay like that for as long as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> 💋 This work is part of the Taste of Smut Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to the five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please do shower our content creators with kudos and comments! 💌
> 
> [Please check out the fest's tumblr for more posts and updates](https://tasteofsmut.tumblr.com/)


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